by Carmen Faye
“What do you mean, was?”
“He’s gone rogue. He planted a body and tried to set up the Aviators to take the fall for it.”
“Why would he do that?”
Butch smiled. “Because he wants a war so he can ride in and take over.”
The Aviator’s eyes narrowed. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
Butch jerked his thumb at me. “This is Pax—my eyes and ears. We thought you’d taken Jonas out and—”
“We didn’t do shit!”
Butch held up his hand. “We know. Now. But we were trying to find out what happened to Jonas. The first body that was found, the one dumped in the ocean, we thought it was him, and we thought you did it.”
I saw the Aviators go stiff as if they were preparing for an attack, but Butch kept going.
“We couldn’t confirm the identity of the body, and we wanted to be sure before we did anything. Good thing we did because we now know Jonas is still alive. I understand you lost four?”
“Yeah. We were looking at you, but nobody saw a Chaser in our territory. We are still trying to determine who did it.”
“Jonas did it,” Butch said. “He’s trying to put us at each other’s throat.”
“You’re number two?”
“I told you, not anymore. The hits were completely unsanctioned. In fact, we thought he was dead when he did it.”
“Why? What’s his game?”
“He wants to start a new club, and he wants us out of the way. If we fuck each other over, he can move in. Take over our smack and your guns. He’ll have the whole pie, all to himself.”
“So you won’t have a problem with us killing him?”
Butch smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “No. You’ll be doing us a favor.”
“How do we know you’re telling the truth?”
Butch jerked his thumb at me again. “See him? He was beating the shit out of Jonas to get the information. He would have killed him, but the cops showed up before he could finish the job.”
The Aviator looked at me. “I’m not sure who was killing who,” he mocked. “How did you find him?”
“Luck,” I admitted. “I just happened to see him. He was staying at the Sleepy Eye Motel.”
“What a shit-hole,” the Aviator sneered. “What were you doing there?”
“Club business.”
The Aviator grunted as he sucked on his teeth. “You know where Jonas is?”
“No. But we’re looking for him.”
“And if you find him?”
Butch stared at the Aviator. “Then we’re going to kill him.”
The Aviator nodded. “I want to see the body.”
Butch nodded. “If you find him first, I want him.”
The Aviator thought for a minute. “Okay, but he may not be in perfect shape.”
“Ask me if I give a shit.”
“But if we have to kill him?”
Butch smiled again. “Then I want to see the body.”
The Aviator nodded. “I think we have an understanding.”
Butch nodded. “I believe we do.”
The Aviator nodded, and the three men turned, walking back to his line. We’d watched for a moment before we did the same. “Tense,” Gregor muttered as we walked back.
“Yeah, but I knew Gibbons would fucking listen. Jonas, the cocksucker, tried to play us both. I knew he wouldn’t like it any more than we fucking did.”
“So now we find Jonas?”
Butch nodded. “We find him, and we fuck him over good. We find out who else is in this little club of his, and we pass the work on to the Aviators. Then we track the motherfuckers down, and we gut them like the pussies they are. What we don’t get, the fucking Aviators will. We’re going to make it hurt, brothers. They’re going to be begging us to kill them.”
I felt my stomach roll over. Killing assholes that needed it was one thing, but torture? I knew that by making it messy, that sent a message to anyone else that might think about fucking with us. I’d heard stories, but that wasn’t something I’d seen since I’d been with the club. I kept my thoughts to myself, but the idea of torture didn’t set well with me. I knew we had a couple of brothers that were handy with a knife and could probably keep a man alive for days as they cut them.
We mounted up and got out of there. We were in neutral territory, but that didn’t mean we trusted the Aviators. Butch may have averted a war, but they were still assholes and might take a shot at us if they thought they could.
We arrived back at the clubhouse and Butch filled in the rest of the club on what was going down. I listened as he whipped the rest of the brothers into a froth of vengeance. A month ago I would have been just like them, but now the blood lust wasn’t there. I’d gladly kill Jonas for what he did, not only for the club but also for Leah. He’d sent her back to her bad place, and I’d stick a knife in his back for that reason alone. But I no longer relished the thought of spilling enemy blood.
I cheered and roared along with the rest of my brothers, but it was all an act. All I wanted to do now was get back to my apartment and check on Leah. As the booze began to flow, I plotted my escape.
“Butch, I have to go,” I said.
“Go? Go where?”
“Home. In case you forgot, Jonas beat the shit out of me. I’m going to go home and get some rest and take something.”
“What you need is a drink!” he said, shoving a beer into my hand.
I sat the beer back on the bar. “What I need is to go home and get some sleep.”
“What a fucking pussy. Fine. Be ready to ride tomorrow. You’re on point to find these fucking Demon Hands.”
I didn’t bother to correct him. He probably didn’t know what an Incubus was anyway. “What? Suddenly I’m your guy again?”
“Hey, you fucking came through in the end. No wonder you had a hard time finding out who the dead fucker was. That shit is all water under the bridge now. Tomorrow, I want you out there tracking down that fucking Jonas. If you want to finish fucking him over, be my guest. Just don’t kill him. We need the names of the rest of the pussies that are riding with him.”
Butch said it like he was doing me a favor. I nodded. “I’ll find him,” I said. And I would. Then I was going to turn him over to the Chasers because he had to answer for what he did, and after that, I was going to do some serious thinking about my life and what I wanted from it.
I left the club, the door shutting behind me muffling the sounds of partying. I stuck the key in the ignition of my bike and pressed the starter. The bike growled to life. I toed it into gear then rumbled out of the parking lot.
As I rode home, I started thinking about my life. The club kicking me in the ass, and the fact they went behind my back, still left a bad taste in my mouth. Never mind Butch saying it was all water under the bridge. For him maybe, but not for me. I wasn’t sure I wanted to be part of the Venom Chasers anymore, but I did know I wanted to be part of Leah’s life. Somehow, she’d managed to burrow under my skin and into my heart. I didn’t love her, not really, but there was something about her that drew me to her. Maybe it was the innocence in how she looked and acted. Maybe it was the fact that she could fuck like a demon while still looking like an angel. Maybe it was the fact for the first time I felt like I was important to someone. Maybe it was all of the above.
Did I love her? I examined my feelings as I rode. No, I didn’t, I decided. But I wanted to. I wanted the chance to fall in love with her. But the Venom Chasers was a jealous bitch. She didn’t like to share. She wanted your all, leaving you nothing for anyone else.
Some old ladies could live with that. I didn’t think Leah could. It was only a matter of time that I was going to have to make a choice. Was it going to be the Chasers—the jealous bitch that took everything and gave nothing back—or was it going to be Leah—the one that gave everything to me and asked for nothing of me other than to be there for her?
I shook my head as I leaned the bike over, banking it into the parking l
ot of my apartment complex. As I putt-putted through the complex, the choice seemed simple. I only had to find out if Leah and I had anything, and then find a way out. I had nothing to offer her except the fact I would be there to protect her and pick her up when she fell. But I could find something. I had a way with people. I could sell snow cones in Alaska if I set my mind to it and I knew bikes. Maybe I could go to work in a Harley Dealership somewhere.
I could make it work. I could make it work for her. I pulled to a stop behind her Ford. The more I thought about it, the easier the decision was to make. I bounded up the stairs and opened the door.
“Leah?” I called. I smiled as I glanced around. It looked like she’d cleaned the place up a little. She didn’t answer so I moved further into the apartment, shutting the door behind me. I quietly entered the bedroom, expecting to see her sleeping in the bed. She’d been doing that a lot lately, but she wasn’t there. Then I noticed the lamp, suitcase, and phone on the floor with her clothes strewn around.
“Leah?” I called, my blood running cold as I banged into the separate bath, but she wasn’t there either.
I charged out of the bedroom, panic rising in me. It was obvious there had been a struggle. The Chasers hadn’t taken her, there was no reason for them too now, and the Aviators didn’t know about her and wouldn’t have come into our territory anyway. That left only one other person.
Jonas.
Chapter Thirty-five
As Pax stepped out of the apartment, I immediately felt the loss of his presence. I wanted him to stay with me, but he’d promised he would return. I wandered around his apartment for a moment, trying to wrap my head around what he was saying.
I realized how stupid I must have sounded when I was talking about death following me around. It made perfect sense in my head, but playing back my conversation with Pax, I realized I probably sounded like a raving loon. I hadn’t meant death, as a literal person, only that death seemed to follow me no matter where I went. First at home in Indiana, and now here in Coquille. Having the man on the motorcycle at my house had scared me. I was afraid I was next, and I didn’t know why.
But listening to Pax explain it to me, it made a little more sense. If someone had pitched the body out at sea, it made sense it would eventually turn up somewhere on the beach. The North Pacific Current tended to deposit items lost at sea on the Oregon coast. It was one of the reasons the OIMB was located where it was. The current was too broad to say it landed smack on OIMB, but I knew from my studies that the current was a factor. In the 1990s thousands of shoes were washed ashore all along the Oregon coast from a container that was lost at sea. There was still a running joke at OIMB how each person there got several fresh, if waterlogged, pairs of Nike shoes.
I’d always known deep down inside that the body didn’t actually have anything to do with me, but having Pax lay it out so clearly gave my logical, scientific mind, something to latch onto. I wandered around, my emotional and logical side warring it out in my head. I gripped my hair, squeezing my temples between my fists as I clenched my eyes shut.
To take my mind off my troubles, I began to tidy Pax’s place. It was a dump, and I could write my name in the dust on some surfaces. I hoped he didn’t mind, but I had to be busy, I had to try to ignore the two sides of me as they battered each other mercilessly.
I started by picking up all the detritus and stuffing it into a garbage sack, then loaded and started the dishwasher. As that ran, I made his bed and hung the clothes that I could tell were clean. Those that were obviously dirty, or suspect, went into piles to be washed… lights, darks, and whites.
I was afraid that doing his laundry was a bit too forward, so I started dusting, using a dirty hand towel from the laundry pile. His place was small, and I was making good progress when someone knocked on the door. I froze, unsure of what to do, then peeked between the blinds. The man knocked again, harder this time.
“Open up Pax. I know you’re home.”
I stepped back from the window, chewing on my bottom lip. The blinds were closed, so there was no way that anyone could tell I was there. If I remained quiet, they would leave. The man rapped on the door again then I heard the scratching, like a key being slid into the lock. My blood ran cold, then I watched in horror as the deadbolt turned. I rushed to the door to relock it, but I was too slow. As the door opened, I stopped and turned, running to the bedroom. The man saw me and slammed the door as he chased after me. I shut the bedroom door, but there was no lock. I put my shoulder against the door and held the handle, whimpering in fear.
“So, who do we have here?” a voice said on the other side of the door. “Come out, come out, where ever you are.”
I felt the knob try to turn, but I held it firm. I looked around, frantically looking for anything that I could use to block the door. I saw my phone lying on the bedside table, and I cursed myself for not putting it back in my pocket after I checked the time while sorting laundry. I thought about making a dash for it and trying to call 9-1-1, but I knew I’d never make it before the man was in the room.
I felt the knob try to turn again and I gripped it with both hands. “I like a girl with some spirit,” the voice said as the knob began to turn again.
“No! Help!” I shouted as loud as I could, hoping someone would hear. “Someone help me! Call the police!”
The man chuckled. “Sorry, bitch. Nobody home to help you.”
The knob began to turn again, and I could feel the door flex and move as he pushed against it. I whimpered, straining with my entire being to hold the knob, but I wasn’t strong enough.
“No!” I whimpered as it slowly turned in my hand. “No!” I screamed as the door opened a bit, but I managed to shut it again as I dug in.
The man rammed his shoulder into the door, and I stumbled back, then turned and tried to make it to the bathroom. He caught my hand as I tried to pass, his hold on my arm twisting me around and dragging me to a stop.
“No! Let me go!” I screamed as I tugged furiously at my hand, trying to break his hold, but his grip was like iron. I grabbed my suitcase from the bed and swung it at his head, my clothes flying everywhere as the lid flew open.
The case hit him on the shoulder, making him grunt as he tried to deflect it. His grip slipped a bit and leaned into my pull. I fell to my knees as I slipped from his grasp. I was scrambling to my feet when he tackled me, driving me toward the bed. I kicked hard with my feet, screaming as I tried to get away. I was keeping him off of me as he tried to battle is way past my flailing feet. I connected solidly with one kick, and he reared back and fell. I threw myself on the bed, rolling to my feet on the opposite side of him. I grabbed my phone and tried to run, intending to get out of the apartment, but he scrambled after me, driving into me again and taking me to the floor. I threw my phone at him, and it bounced off his head before he could wrap me up and pin me to the floor. I strained with every muscle in my body, but in moments he had me pinned, and I shrieked in pain as he twisted my arm behind my back.
“You’re a feisty one,” the man sneered into my ear. “I’m going to enjoy breaking you in.”
“Pax is going to kill you!” I raged, and the man jerked me to my feet, using my arm to lever me up as I screamed in agony again.
“I’m counting on him to try,” the man panted in my ear. “I was going to surprise him here, but this is much better. Now he can come to us.”
“Who are you?” I demanded, trying to wrench myself free, then gasped as my struggle put searing pressure on my shoulder.
“Nobody you need to know about.”
“What are you going to do to me?”
“I’m going to take you to see an old friend of Pax’s.”
“Who?” I was proud of myself. I was about to piss myself in fear, but you couldn’t hear it in my voice.
“Doesn’t matter. Now, we’re going to go out the door nice and easy. You try to run, or scream, I’ll break your fucking arm, then your fucking neck. Clear?”
I nodded
, and he began marching me forward. I frantically tried to think of a way to warn Pax, but before I could come up with anything, we were out of the apartment. I gasped as he put more pressure on my arm.
“Don’t you fucking yell,” he warned beside me, his arm behind my back like he was steering me along, but in actuality, torquing my arm up behind my back. We went slowly down the steps; each one was agony, as he couldn’t keep constant pressure on my arm. When we reached the bottom step, he turned me and forced me into the back of a nearby van.
He shoved me in, then crawled in behind. I tried to scramble out of the back of the van, but I couldn’t figure out how to open the rear doors before he grabbed me by my hair. I cried out in pain as he dragged me back away from the doors. I struggled, but I wasn’t able to prevent him from wrapping my wrists in duct tape. Once he had done that, he had no trouble doing my ankles, then to add insult to injury, taped my wrists and ankles together before slapping a final piece over my lips.